


How to Die (Or, How John Watson Stopped Waiting)

by thecamelotcrew



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Suicide, done late at night without editing, reinchenbach fic, sorry - Freeform, this has got to suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecamelotcrew/pseuds/thecamelotcrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dioxide. Trigger warning. Please, call a suicide hotline if you need to. Anyways, this doc is how John Watson dud not survive the aftermath of Reinchenbach. Enjoy, if sadness makes you happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Die (Or, How John Watson Stopped Waiting)

**Author's Note:**

> Please, don't read if this will trigger you. It only references suicide, and does not really describe it. I guess in here John is depressed, but his best friend died. I would call that a warning. I don't know what triggers some people. And, as always, I did not edit, it's late at night, and I own none of these characters. Thank you :)

Bang. John Watson dribbled to his knees, never to stand again. 

It age all started with the fall. The most horrible day of John Watson's life. As far as he knew, Sherlock was dead.

To deal with the pain, he pretended he was there for the first two weeks. But the nightmares of Afghanistan got worse. Now, Sherlock was in them. John woke up, every day, screaming. 

To avoid the nightmares, he didn't sleep. He ignored the press. He became a nobody. He did this for a month. 

It stopped when he saw Sherlock in places. He saw him at the store, heard his music, and felt his presence. John Watson never had believed in ghosts. 

John Watson slept more, but drank less. He found he saw Sherlock more then. For two months this happened. 

" John, " the fake Sherlock said. " Eat. " 

Simple answer. " No. " 

" At least drink something, " Sherlock whined. 

" Fuck you, " was his response. 

 

He soon had murderers lining up at the door, just to ask where Sherlock was. They threatened him. He told them he was dead. 

That's what he knew. 

And that's why, after three months and fifteen days of waiting for Sherlock, John Watson took his last breath. This Sherlock deduced from the counters, the blood, and from the weapon. It was John's, shot from his own hand. 

Oh, what a cruel and funny world.

**Author's Note:**

> Told you, my friend, I can write dark Fics. This is one of them. You know who you are.


End file.
